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The Red Disc

Donald P. Goodman III

The sun arose, red disc in sickly world, ascending up into a golden sky; my eyes went with it, weak from travels long, and foll'wing it I stood, and stood up high.
I started long ago a journey hard--- how easy all things seemed in that great time! The road was wide and flat, and never curved, and so I started off with song and rhyme.
But ere I'd travelled long, a block arose; the block was small, and pushed off to the side. The sun was bright, revealing all the way, and showing me that road most smooth and wide.
But ne'ertheless I tripped, I stumbled, fell! My body hit the ground with painful force; my ankle broken, I fell to despair when night descended, hiding my long course.
I crawled along; the pain was all I felt; I could not see my hand before my face; the road was curved most cruelly, winding down; the darkness hid that rocky, painful place.
The night would last fore'er; I could not crawl; I could not move, my power brought to naught; the night engulfed me, bound me in its chains; I could not even see the end I sought.
Despair became my shackles, dark my chains; I pained, deprived of even hope for hope. I threw my blinded, hopeless eyes to sky; ``O sun, if you'll not light me, help me cope!''
And so I fell to ground and hoped to die; but from the heav'ns I heard a tortured sigh; I looked up; could it be he'd heard my cry? could he love me, who rules the mighty sky?
The sun arose, red disc in sickly world, ascending up into a golden sky; my eyes went with it, weak from travels long, and foll'wing it I stood, and stood up high.